


sugar and spite

by daxffodils



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Inspired by Real Events, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22245541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daxffodils/pseuds/daxffodils
Summary: The most gorgeous creature she’d ever seen in her life was standing right in front of her, just a few miles away, and Therese only noticed having her mouth agape after solid minutes of staring. She had the brief impression that the stunning woman had turned her head to look at them, just for the fraction of a second, and then her gaze went suddenly neutral.She cleared her throat, and everybody in the room stopped and stared."My name is Carol Aird, and I will be teaching you this module for this academic year."
Relationships: Carol Aird & Therese Belivet, Carol Aird/Abby Gerhard, Carol Aird/Therese Belivet, Therese Belivet/Genevieve Cantrell
Comments: 48
Kudos: 136





	1. pilot

**SUGAR AND SPITE**

_pilot_

* * *

When the alarm on the bedside table rang, at exactly six o’clock in the morning, Therese’s eyes immediately opened wide, as if she didn’t get any sleep throughout the night.

She let out a loud groan, disappointed in the night’s lack of rest, and frantically pulled away the sheets, stepping out of the bed. She absolutely adored being able to study at UCLA, one of the best universities in the country; however, things were becoming a little repetitive after three years of studying for the same beloved, yet deeply yearned for BA in Fine Arts.

  
She didn’t want to seem ungrateful, especially when considering the two hundred grand of student loans she was sitting on in order to afford that school; still, she was also slowly – and painfully – realizing how difficult it was for artists to truly make a living out of their work, and that awareness had started to agonizingly build up a tingling sense of anxiety inside, which screamed “GRADUATION” in capital letters.  
What separated her from graduation was merely a year and nine exams, all of which she was quite excited to prepare.  
All but one.  
“ _Critical issues in Fine Art_ ” was one of the few modules she had yet to embark on and, although the sound of it was quite appealing to her thirst for knowledge of everything-art-related, that module had a reputation for being taught by _the_ actual worst teacher at UCLA, and rumor had it she only had that job because “ _she’d slept her way through"_ , or at least that’s what her friend Genevieve always used to say about this Abby person, whenever the topic came up.

  
According to Gen, who’d taken the module before, Abby Gerhard was the most boring lecturer ever, and she wasn’t even particularly clever, which made her lectures the plague of the degree. Some kind of paying-your-dues thing.

  
_Fair enough_ , Therese thought, as she was getting ready for the first lecture with Abby Gerhard of her entire academic career.

  
She wasn’t particularly happy about wasting a module she thought would be incredibly interesting; however, every cloud has a silver lining, and hers included being able to pretty much exploit three full hours to catch up with something else instead of paying attention to the otherwise useless lecture.

  
With that thought in mind, Therese jumped in the shower, fantasizing about the work she would have anticipated later that day.

* * *

  
With a steamy Americano in her hands Therese sat in the outer circle, the farther from the lecturer, next to Genevieve.

  
She fell onto the seat, shaking, trying to shake off the coldness of the 14 degrees typical of the beginning of November, when the temperatures drop dramatically.

  
Genevieve turned to her with what could only be defined as sarcastic excitement. “I’m so happy to start this module, _again_! You know how they say, _all good things come in threes…_ I’d say this would be the right fucking time to let me pass this exam. _Ugh_. I’m so sick of it.”  
Therese laughed, and she was just about to reply with the same snarky tone when she was interrupted by a literal celestial vision.  
The most gorgeous creature she’d ever seen in her life was standing right in front of her, just a few miles away, and she only noticed having her mouth agape after solid minutes of staring.  
Therese was absolutely shook, and slowly started realizing this sort of blonde _Greek divinity_ in front of them did not match Genevieve’s recounts of Abby Gerhard at all.

  
Where was the horrible, frizzy dark hair? What about the button nose, and the awful taste in clothing?

All she could see was this tall, graceful, absolutely alien blue-eyed woman, with golden locks, perfectly sculpted cheekbones and an _incredible_ , _unbelievable_ body, wrapped in the most sophisticated pair of black pants and beige silk blouse she’d ever seen.  
She had confirmation to her doubts by Gen, who only got her head up from her laptop to exclaim “ _who the fuck is this?_ ”.

  
Therese had the brief impression that the stunning woman had turned her head to look at them, just for the fraction of a second, and then her gaze went suddenly neutral.

  
She cleared her throat, and everybody in the room stopped and stared.

  
“My name is Carol Aird. I am here to cover Ms. Gerhard, as she has taken some time out of the university. Therefore, I will be teaching you this whole academic year.  
I don’t know if or how you are used to work with Ms. Gerhard, but I want to see very hard work and a high rate of participation from you, and I’d expect nothing less. You were given an opportunity to study this degree at this university, and I won’t let you waste it.  
If you are not intentioned in investing a huge deal of your time and your efforts in this, the door is right behind you. That being said, we may begin.”  
Everyone in the room kept staring quietly for a solid minute, nobody dared to move.  
The silence was only interrupted by the rustling of paper and the sound of fifty laptops turning on at the same time.

“Great! I’m never going to pass this exam” Genevieve uttered, throwing her hands in the air.

  
Therese found herself completely unable to find the words, nor the appropriate reaction to answer back.  
_Ms. Carol Aird._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! Thanks for reaching the end of this pilot!  
> I've been a Carol (2015) stan for AGES now, and I've always wanted to create something like this. I'm quite nervous to be publishing within this amazing fandom (as the bar is very high), but I am very excited at the same time.  
> As you may have understood, Carol is Therese's professor at university, and who knows what's going to happen there??  
> I certainly have some ideas...  
> Last but not least, if you enjoyed this pilot (or not), please leave a comment! I promise next chapter is going to be waaay longer and juicier xx
> 
> thank you so so so much  
> daxffodils


	2. a turquoise dot

**SUGAR AND SPITE**

_II. a turquoise dot_

She moved her weight from one foot to another, once again, frowning at the canvas in front of her. She held her gaze up, then down, she moved to the right and to the left, in what could only be described as an agonizing cycle and, without even realising it, while staring at that turquoise dot in the middle of a pink-ish mess, she was sitting on the floor with her legs crossed. She let out a deep sigh, and moved barefoot through the open-space living room, all the way to the kitchen. She grabbed a wide glass and took it out of the wooden cabinet, to then fill it with tap water. She took a long sip, and her head naturally wandered towards the noise coming for the small television in the living room. Some guy was going on about the latest scandal in the local elections, but Therese wasn’t paying much attention. 

She really liked her apartment, it was the very first place she ever picked for herself and which truly felt like her own, well-earned nest. It wasn’t much to be fair, it was rather small and neutrally coloured, but she loved the feeling of it. It genuinely felt like home in there. 

Of course, she’d get kind of lonely at times, but her past experiences definitely taught her she’d pick loneliness over the sacrifice of having to compromise with other human beings any day and, truthfully, she always developed a nostalgic longing for it, whenever she was missing for more than a couple of days. She loved her independence, and cherished her loneliness. Maybe that’s what she was trying to express in her painting, she thought. Loneliness. That daunting, satisfying, at times overwhelming feeling of knowing you’re on your own, and that you can’t truly rely on anyone. 

Of course, she had her parents, and her friends, and Genevieve. But, somehow, Therese felt like that was not quite it. Like it wasn’t supposed to feel that way, true intimacy. Loneliness had always had a way of creeping back in, of making her realise its presence, of letting her know it never really left. 

Therese glanced at the canvas sitting in the middle of the living room again. She looked at that small, almost imperceptible blue dot, and all of the pink threads surrounding it, stealing the scene, being the main attraction of the painting and, somehow, it all made sense. She smiled slightly. Yes, that’s the emotion she was going to go for.

* * *

“I’m sorry, I think I’ve suddenly gone deaf? What did you say, girl? You wanna show your sad, little, poor-orphan-girl painting to  _ Aird _ ? Are you insane?” Genevieve burst out, quite literally laughing to tears, while holding a glass of rosé in her hand. She was shaking so hard Therese got worried she might spill some of it on her carpet. She always felt a bit weird whenever Genevieve, a pale, blonde, skinny and frail white girl put up that fake-badass tone. She sounded like she’d just gone out of an episode of  _ Orange is the new black _ , and it kind of made Therese cringe. 

“So? She’s our teacher! I’m allowed to ask for a little advice!” She replied, somewhat offended.

Genevieve looked at her straight in the eyes. “Therese, she doesn’t even fucking know us. Trust me, she will not give a fuck about the way you felt when you painted a stupid dot in a different shade”

“Well, I didn’t say I’d show her right now, did I?” She said, as she gave Genevieve a miffed look. “Also, might I add I think I should kick your ass out of my house? You’re the worst friend, AND you’re also insulting my work”, Therese added with a smug face. Genevieve giggled in response. “You’d never do it”

“Yeah? And why not?”

“Because you’re a softie, you’re mummy’s little girl”, she pouted mockingly, softening her eyes to make an impression of Therese. “And you want Ms. Aird to be your new mummy, don’t you?”. At that point, she’d also taken up a girly, childish voice, and Therese was about to snap back, when Genevieve kept on talking again. “And also ‘cause I brought you these” she said, taking a box of limited edition lime Pringles out of her purse. “Now, if you want me out… these are coming with me. And so is your Netflix date for tonight”. Therese smiled. Maybe her friend was right after all, maybe she should have waited some more before showing Carol Aird her work. Maybe she could have worked on something that would have come out way better. And then Ms. Aird would have been truly impressed with her skills, she would have complimented her, and she would have said, with a wide smile and a sincerely surprised look in her turquoise eyes, how she’d never seen such a raw talent among her students.

“You stupid motherfucker” she snapped back, grinning through her teeth and hugging Genevieve tightly, only to steal the pringles from her hands afterwards.

* * *

“Oh, for Chrissake, look at you” Carol muttered, an appalled expression framing her eyes. She closed the door behind her, entering her house, and she dryly threw the keys on the small table upon the entrance. She closed her eyes and petted her hair briefly, as a way of trying to contain her anger and disgust. When she looked up again, Harge was staring at her through the darkness, spread on the couch, the only lighting coming from the television sitting in the middle of the living room. And, in all frankness, he did not look very joyful to see her.

“Where the fuck have you been, Carol? It’s fucking midnight” he gritted his teeth, visibly trying to remain calm, although his tone betrayed his true emotions. 

“Well, I am a grown woman, aren’t I, Harge?” She snapped back. She’d have replied anything, minus answering his question.

“You are my wife” he said, his tone somehow softening.

“That, I wouldn’t be so sure about”

Harge vehemently got up from the couch, in a snap movement. Her instinct gave her bluffing away, as she naturally stepped back in what was a very tough reaction to describe. Was it fear? Perhaps, repulsion? She did not know. Maybe it was both of them, two different, though very clear emotions which, once mixed together, had been the fatal combination to her marriage. She felt the wooden texture of the door touching her back.

He stepped closer, until he was standing one centimeter from her face. Harge stopped and stared at her for what felt like a solid minute. “You better watch it, Carol.” He turned his back on her and started walking towards the centre of the living room, shutting the television down. “I don’t care what you do. But, help me God, if you’re this indecent again I swear to you I won’t be as nice”.

* * *

“Back  in the old days, art was purchased predominantly for direct consumption.” Carol was saying, while pointing at one of the slides which showed the  _ Water Lilies _ Series by Claude Monet. “You bought a painting because you liked it, you hung it on the living room wall and derived satisfaction by admiring it”. She stepped closer to the centre of the lecture room. “Today, the art industry is valued at roughly 50 billion dollars globally”. She stared intensely at every single student in the room, from side to side. Slowly. “Can anybody name the three attributes that are crucial to the investment asset in the art industry?”

Pause. Silence. Some guy was looking in a different direction, as if he wanted to hide, or be somewhere else, suddenly disappear. Bingo. Those were her favourites. “Warren, perhaps?” The young man scoffed, almost imperceptibly; however, Carol noticed it. She noticed every single detail, for that matter. Always.

“Opaque pricing?” He tried.

“Yes, and?”

Once again, Warren looked away, and Carol was already tired of him.

“Anybody else?” she asked.

“It would be non-standardisation, opaque pricing, and…” She turned her eyes and pointed them at the brunette, petite girl who was talking. She couldn’t really remember her name, it had to be quite exotic. Bennett, maybe?

“... and the industry itself needs to be unregulated”. 

She was good, though. Maybe she should have remembered her name.

“Yes. The lack of these attributes make the art industry susceptible to manipulation. How come?”

“In antiquity, its importance was in the fact that the painting had signalling values, implying that you could always showcase it. But,”

“Raise your voice. We can’t hear you. Be confident”

Therese looked at her, utterly surprised, and she could literally feel her cheeks flushing. She knew they’d have to be crimson red. She spoke again, not knowing the source of that courage, with a hint of a trembling voice.

“... But it wasn’t yet an asset for investment. Because the meaning of art has changed from antiquity, the predominant factor that drives sales of artwork nowadays is its investment value and its forecasted value in the future.”

“Very well, Miss…”

“Belivet.”

“Miss Belivet is absolutely right. These are just a few of the issues plaguing the art industry on a global level...”

Therese turned her head around, only to find Genevieve staring at her with her mouth agape. “That wasn’t even in the frigging reading, Therese!” she whispered, visibly distressed. The brunette shrugged in response, with an almost imperceptible smile on her face which highlighted her ridiculously cute cheek dimples. “You’re really trying to impress her”, she added, giving her a smug look.

“I guess I am”, Therese replied, before returning her attention to Ms. Aird. 

* * *

She decided she was going to do it. Once the lecture was over, she would have gotten up and gotten her ass down the ramp of stairs, she would have gone straight to her lecturer and she would have shown her the painting she’d been working on. In her imagination, Carol would have greeted her warmly and would have been thrilled for Therese to share her art with her. She hoped she would get some useful advice and, why not, maybe a tiny bit of praise. “ _ It never harmed anyone _ ”, she thought to herself. Of course, a part of her was very nervous for Ms. Aird to actually appreciate her work. But, quite frankly, she hadn’t been able to think about anything else for the entire duration of the lecture, so at that point she had developed a sense of ‘wanting to get it over with’ that made her overcome any anxiety or fear of rejection she might have been feeling. 

However, when she did get her moment at last and was finally facing the fascinating, mysterious, gorgeous Carol Aird in that same, now empty room, she suddenly got an urge to run away, and the very real presentiment that the whole thing was going to be a disaster. As a matter of fact, she realised her lecturer wasn’t looking very keen to engage in any kind of conversation. She had a stern look on her face, and was gathering her personal effects without raising her head at all. Actually, more than gathering she was scattering her stuff all over the place.

“Ms. Aird? I am so… sorry to bother you” she attempted to say, trying a soft approach. Carol finally raised her head to look at her. However, she did not smile as Therese had imagined in her fantasy. Actually, she was staring at her with such a neutral expression Therese could have swore she might have turned invisible.

“I was just wondering whether… erm… whether you’d be so kind to take a look at something I’ve been working on… if that’s not a problem for you. You see, I” she stopped talking abruptly as she was interrupted by Carol.

“Look… Belivet, right?” Therese nodded forcefully.

“I’m very sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, I really don’t appreciate suck-ups and I honestly don’t think I’m the person you’re looking for in this case. Perhaps I can direct you towards some of my brilliant colleagues, who I’m sure would be very happy to help you”.

Therese looked at her for what felt like an eternity, without being able to utter a single sound. Her imagination had played her. What she had been picturing, too. “Oh.” She managed to say in the end, her brain bursting as Genevieve’s word kept buzzing and humming in her ears. “No problem, nevermind” she managed to add. She turned her back to her lecturer, walking as fast as physically possible, while leaving her dignity behind, with her. “Sorry I have wasted your time”, she said lastly, while storming out of the room, her voice cracking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I am SUCH a piece of sh*t!!   
> Back in JANUARY I swore I would have given you much more very soon, and I literally made you wait until the end of March. You have every right to hate me, but I promise I'll give you many more reasons to love me instead.  
> Jokes apart, I genuinely hope all of you are fine and coping with this whole global pandemic craziness. Stay safe, and most of all stay home kids!   
> Hopefully I just gave you a further reason to stay home and perhaps distract you from all of it while you enjoy this chapter :) once again, I'm VERY sorry for this unbelievable delay, I have to be true to me and to all of you amazingly kind people who took the time to leave kudos and/or comments on the pilot chapter, and tell you I was a little bit overwhelmed by the love I received. I just didn't expect it! But I'm over it now, and I truly want to thank you SO SO SO much, from the bottom of my heart. I PROMISE you won't have to wait three months ever again for the next chapters to arrive!   
> I'm sending you loads of love, please do let me know what are your thoughts on the current situation our ladies are going through!
> 
> Yours,  
> daxffodils xxxx


	3. when we have sufficiently tortured each other

**SUGAR AND SPITE**

_III. when we have sufficiently tortured each other_

Something very disheartening and much too recurrent throughout Therese’s life, resembling loss of focus and nervousness, had always accompanied her and dictated her behaviour in multiple occasions. A hopeless dreamer and constant perfectionist, Therese had led an ambition-driven existence up to that point, and she wasn’t exactly planning on changing anytime soon. However, more often than not, the value she attributed to every single opportunity she truly cared about had led her to approach the roads bringing her closer to the goal with a rather intense rate of anxiety. In the past, it had happened quite a lot. Submitting her application for UCLA literally took her something like four to five months to be able to complete it and send it in a state which kind of resembled some type of peace of mind, but which really was exhaustion from going over every detail a thousand times a day. In order to deal with that kind of stress, it was almost natural for her to fully dissociate herself from the worry she felt, as if in an attempt to ignore her responsibilities and shut the world outside. This was one of those occasions and, by now, Therese had grown to being quite familiar with the feeling. Except she couldn’t toss her responsibilities aside, in this instance. Even if it meant having to deal with the person she was starting to despise the most. 

It had been a long night, indeed. Therese looked at the time: it was almost three in the morning. Nonetheless, she picked up the phone. “Gen” she said, as soon as she heard noise on the other side of the line. “You won’t believe it”. Genevieve sounded genuinely curious when she replied with “what?”, and Therese felt instantly relieved with her newfound knowledge that she hadn’t harassed her friend in the middle of the night while she might have been sleeping or engaged in something else. She had just finished giving shape to that thought when she heard a male tone on the background coming from Gen’s phone. Therese widened her eyes, terribly at fault. “Oh my God, you’re busy, I’m so sorry, I’ll call you in the morning, I thought-” She heard Gen laughing out loud, and blinked. “Don’t worry, Terry. I told you I’m seeing Dannie. We were just chilling”. Therese heard him shouting “HI THERESE!” while still away from the phone. “Right”, she proceeded on saying. “So… inviting him back to yours. Things are serious with this guy, huh?”

“Well… you’ll see it for yourself. Don’t forget you’re meeting us tomorrow night at Tiki-ti. It’s just downtown.” She heard Therese sigh.

“Yeah, I guess it’s feasible… I kind of want to meet this Dannie guy” she replied, resembling not exactly the spitting image of excitement.

“You’ll see. He’s so much fun.” Therese bit her lip and nodded, even though Genevieve couldn’t see her. “Okay”, she said.

“So, what’s the latest news you were dying to tell me?”. The e-mail she just got flashed back very vividly, and Therese (which didn’t believe she could hate the information that was in it more) felt another pang of pain. “Mr. Beckner reached back about the internship request” she heard herself saying. “You won’t believe it. Apparently every lecturer has a certain quota, some kind of set number of students whose applications they can take on, and they can’t exceed that number”. Genevieve gasped, already foreseeing what was coming next. “Guess who’s the only lecturer who still has to reach the number of students she is willing to help” Therese concluded, helplessly rolling her eyes while uttering the words. “I swear to God I’d rather die than ask her to help me. We saw how that one went”

Genevieve snorted. “Maybe she was just in a bad mood” she said. Therese was about to snap, when she added “But I see where you’re coming from. Definitely not very kind of her”

“I’d like to spare me the humiliation, perhaps”. She heard some kind of rustling noise coming from the phone, and heard Gen giggling. “Sorry” she said. “Dannie is…” she very clearly moved away from the phone. “Stop it!” Therese heard again, and then Gen took the mobile back. “He’s just teasing me. I have to go.” Therese opened her mouth to talk, but her friend preceded her. “Look, you and I know how much you care about this internship. It could mean so much for the gallery. Don’t let any rude bitch get in the way!”. Therese found herself stuck in a rarefied state of mindless awareness. “You said it yourself, she’s supposed to help you. Go get it, girl!”. Before Therese could say something, Gen excused herself and hung up after saying, with a  _ very _ hurried tone, “I really need to go now, see you tomorrow, love you”, and Therese could just picture her flushed look and pink cheeks while, in all probability, Dannie was cuddling her. Fair enough. At least one of them was getting cuddled. She looked back at the inbox folder of her e-post and sighed. Genevieve was right. She had no choice but to face the three-headed, blue-eyed monster. Alone.

* * *

Therese tried to make her way through the crowd that was slammed over the dance floor, with two full pints of some kind of green, blue-ish liquid in her hands, while shakily walking towards Gen and Dannie’s table in the corner. The wooden floor was sticky and she could hardly tell where she was going or if she was about to jump into something or someone, for that matter. She cursed herself under her breath for accepting the invitation. She furtherly cursed herself for her, she now realized, very poor choice of clothing items. Her elephant jeans were driving her insane as they kept strolling on the dirty floor, and the turtleneck but sleeveless top had made sure she’d feel as if she were being choked to death in the unbearable heat of the bar, while also getting all kinds of substances on her bare arms. Screw cute, she should have gone in her sweatpants. She tried to put on her best face anyway as she approached the two, and a faint smile came out. “Here we go” she said, letting an ‘oof’ sound out as she dropped the pints on the table. “Thanks”, she heard Dannie saying. Therese raised her head and was met by a curious, attentive look and his most charming smile which, to be honest, sent her a surge through her spine in what she felt as discomfort. Had he just been inappropriate? Perhaps she was just being extra perceptive though, she did feel kind of dizzy anyway. “Sure” she said, nodding, and turned to face Genevieve. 

“So, Therese”, Danny started.  _ Here we go again _ , she thought, suddenly freezing. “It’s really nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, haven’t I?” he playfully smacked Gen on the shoulder, to Therese’s relief, because that did feel appropriate. It’s not like she didn’t like Dannie. He was quite handsome, funny and light-hearted, and seemed like a smart guy. But she just couldn’t imagine being involved with him  _ like that _ and, most of all, he was her best friend’s… boyfriend? Companion? Lover? She hadn’t really figured it out yet. “Likewise”, she replied, just as the silence was starting to feel awkward. “I’ve heard enough about you too”. She could spot Gen grinning on the side. 

“Genevieve told me your dream is to open an art gallery, that’s… neat”.

“Yeah”, she nodded. “That should be the plan.”

“And some professor of yours doesn’t want to help you or something?” Therese froze and, before she could help it, went pale. She had forced herself to wipe Carol Aird off of her mind at least for the night, and Dannie mentioning her was not helping. At all. She nodded feebly. Danny chuckled. “What on earth did you do to her that made her hate you so much?”

Therese suddenly went from pale to bright red, in a time span of less than two seconds, and thinned her lips. How  _ dare  _ he assume things about her so light-heartedly and interrogate her about them? They’d known each other for fifteen minutes, tops! He must had noticed the distress on her face, because his eyes immediately flashed with regret. “I mean… why is she being so tough?”

Therese saw Genevieve with a panicky expression reflected on her own face. Then she squeezed her eyes forcibly, took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “I’m not sure. I guess she must be a very frustrated woman”

“That is for sure. She was so unfair” Genevieve said, tagging herself along.

“Why’s that?” Dannie asked with genuine curiosity in his voice. Therese took pity of him, and felt sorry for snapping so bad.

“She was just really bitchy about something. God, I hate that I ever have to talk to her again” she tapped her hand on her slightly sweaty forehead. Even the simple thought of that woman made her hyperventilate with rage, and humiliation flushed all over her body again. “I’m just terribly worried my only opportunity to get that internship is going to shatter as soon as my application form gets in her hands” she said, finally relaxing and disclosing some more information.

“Here, here” Gen said, tapping her fingers on Therese’s shoulders and forcing her to take a sip of the bubbly green liquid. “You’ll feel much better”. Therese squeezed her eyes in disgust, but kept on sipping while pursing her lips. “You know, I can picture her writing my reference already”. Dannie looked at her. She began, trying her best to mimic her lecturer’s grave tone and carefully chosen lexicon, although not fully realizing what she was saying. 

“Dear Human Resources Team at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, 

I strongly advise you not to offer a placement to my referee, as she attends classes with the bare minimum level of attention and engagement required from this great institution which,  _ by the way _ , she is not adept to be a part of; for Therese Belivet is rather puerile and I am sure suck-ups would not be a great asset for your company. 

Sincerely, Carol Aird, the biggest bitch of all time”

By the time she’d finished, Dannie and Genevieve were looking at her with both shocked and amused expressions on their faces, and Dannie took the chance to interrupt the silence as he burst out laughing. 

_ Not so funny when she actually does it _ , Therese thought, but didn’t say anything.

* * *

“I had a hell of a day, dear, but I wouldn’t want to bum you out by telling you about it”. Muffled noises of protest could be heard from the other side of the phone. “Well, I’d have to point out every single excruciating detail of what’s wrong with the higher education system nowadays. I think that would take some time, wouldn’t it?”. Carol tilted her head and giggled and, just as she did, she could sense some kind of dark sarcasm in her tone. “You’re right, I am rather sure you know something about it”. 

She gazed at the official UCLA logo that was taped all over her office. “I guess you just wouldn’t expect it from a fine institution like this. Not so much trouble, anyway”. 

She paused for a second. “Then again, maybe some of it is my own fault”, she heard herself saying, and she bit her lip. “Well… you know. Me and Harge… we’re going through a rough patch. As always”. The angles of her mouth raised in a bitter smile, and she rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I feel like I’m not paying nearly enough attention, like… Oh, I don’t know.” She moved in her chair, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “Like I’m not investing the passion that used to burn me alive. I used to be really good at this.” She stopped. Just for a second, though. “To hell with it, I used to be the best. I mean, can you believe I was summoned in and basically  _ reprimanded  _ by McCullough today?”

Just as she was speaking, a knock on the door literally froze Carol’s heart. She widened her eyes, as she placed the cellphone on the desk, wondering about who could possibly be bothering her at seven in the evening. In her academic office. Could it be Harge? Had he finally gone insane, at last?

No. No, she thought, it couldn’t have been Harge. The touch on the door was light and shaky, the sound of the knocks almost faint. And Harge would have never had the decency to knock the door instead of storming in, without thinking twice about it.

“Come in” she said at last, her very well trained tone taking over, and perfectly hiding her surprise and uncertainty. Instead, she sounded annoyed. She waited (im)patiently and, after half a second, she saw (to her utter disbelief) no one but  _ Therese Belivet  _ herself making her way through the door. Carol had to fight the urge to literally drop her jaw open. 

The  _ audacity _ . 

She instantly wondered about how much of what she was saying the girl could have heard, and a surge of raging adrenaline grew throughout her body. 

“H-hello” Therese muttered and, once again, Carol had to fight her urge. Her urge not to snort in annoyance. In what was her experience of a lifetime, people had always made sure she’d be damn aware women would never be able to get whatever it is that they wanted, if they did not have the guts to show some confidence. She’d told that girl as much. Clearly, she hadn’t taken her advice. Well. She was the only one at loss. Carol was sure as hell holding on onto her own confidence.

She looked up at her with a very neutral look on her face. But the very fact that she was facing the girl meant she had to go on and get the business done. Quickly. 

Therese seemed to take the hint.

“I’m… I have to ask you whether you might be willing to write a r-reference… for… erm. For an internship I’m applying for. I’d have to put you down as my tutor. If you’d be fine with it.” Therese had started blushing just as she opened her mouth to talk, and her face was now full-on red. She could feel her cheeks burning, and hated herself for it.

“You… have to? You have to ask me?” Carol repeated, raising her brow. She, quite literally, could not believe it. 

She was sure, absolutely positive, she’d been called out by the director of undergraduate studies earlier that day because of the girl who was now awkwardly standing right in the middle of her office, asking for her  _ help _ . Of course, that dirty little Jodie McCullough had jumped at the chance of reprimanding her for something so mundane as having to spend her precious time taking on other people’s work. Or her lack thereof. She mentally scanned through all the concerns she already had and considered how busy she was. Her marriage was literally falling apart. And yet, she was being called out for not wasting her time writing some recommendation for people she didn’t even know, more often than not. 

“Yes. I e-mailed…”  _ Mr. Beckner _ , Therese was about to let slip out of her mouth,  _ who, by the way, is much, much nicer and approachable than you _ . But then she thought mentioning names and pointing fingers couldn’t be a very good idea. “Someone else before. Apparently there’s some sort of set number of student allowance or something?” 

Carol squeezed her eyes in disgust and pinched the bridge of her nose, taking the information in. “Yes”. She said absentmindedly, and yet it somehow managed to come out as cold. 

_ Yes, and you totally knew about it, didn’t you?  _ Carol thought, and definitely did not say out loud. Surely she must have known, and she must have thought Carol wouldn’t be willing on helping many students, so she’d still have to fill the required yearly quota. And the motif?  _ Oh _ , yes. It all added up in Carol’s head.

The girl must have been hung up on the other day, when was it? Last Wednesday, Thursday perhaps? When she’d declined her request to look at her work. Well. She could have been gentler, definitely, but it still didn’t make up for the fact that freaking  _ Belivet _ here had gone to McCullough, crying and complaining about her mean professor. And then had the guts to show up at seven o’clock in the evening and ask for her help.

She looked at the small, wide-eyed, delicate girl in front of her. She looked nervous.

“So you waltzed in here, asking me to be so kind to take the time to write you a reference, because _there was_ _no one else available_?” Her eyes were ice-cold, and her tone lowered to a whisper on the last part of the question. Therese shuddered so hard at it, Carol thought she might burst out crying. 

However, the second she’d finished talking, she suddenly realized something that had been in front of her the whole time. Belivet went to McCullough to complain about last week’s confrontation, and she knew Carol would find out. And she got stuck having to ask her for a favour anyway. She must have had to set aside quite a lot of self-respect in order to show up in that office, Carol considered. 

She briefly took pity of her and, before she could help it, her gaze had softened the slightest bit. 

“Fine” she said sharply, before she could change her mind. Therese was looking at her in utter disbelief and, to be honest, she seemed thoroughly confused. “Where are you going to apply?”

The impatient look in her eyes gave Therese the stimulus to wake up from her trance.

“Erm. Definitely the MET.” She replied.

Shit. The MET was going to suck up a LOT of their time. Belivet had to know  _ that  _ much. “The MET” she repeated pensively, and brought a hand to her chin. “Well. This is going to take quite a long time, if you ask me. That’s if you want to have a shot at actually making it, of course”. She saw Therese’s expression change, and her mouth starting to widen as if she was about to reply, and decided there was nothing to add to the current conversation that wasn’t going to be simple platitudes. So she finally unpinned her gaze from the girl - whom she’d been staring at for ten wholesome minutes, Carol realized -, and took the mobile phone which had previously been abandoned on the desk in her hands. 

“Abby? Do excuse me, I need to go. Something came up. I’ll call you later.”

Therese couldn’t believe her eyes. Someone had been listening and witnessing their whole encounter, for the entire time, on the other side of the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello folks!  
> as always, thanks for making your way down here ♥  
> our ladies are now stuck in what both of them would describe as a rather uncomfortable situation... I'm just as curious as you to see how that develops.  
> stay safe and do leave kudos and comments if you feel like it - they're ALWAYS greatly appreciated and keep me inspired!  
> much much love,  
> daxffodils


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